Best Famous Goads Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Goads poems. This is a select list of the best famous Goads poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Goads poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of goads poems.

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Written by John Masefield | A Creed I HOLD that when a person dies His soul returns again to earth; Arrayed in some new flesh-disguise Another mother gives him birth. With sturdier limbs and brighter brain The old soul takes the road again. Such is my own belief and trust; This hand, this hand that holds the pen, Has many a hundred times been dust And turned, as dust, to dust again; These eyes of mine have blinked and shown In Thebes, in Troy, in Babylon. All that I rightly think or do, Or make, or spoil, or bless, or blast, Is curse or blessing justly due For sloth or effort in the past. My life's a statement of the sum Of vice indulged, or overcome. I know that in my lives to be My sorry heart will ache and burn, And worship, unavailingly, The woman whom I used to spurn, And shake to see another have The love I spurned, the love she gave. And I shall know, in angry words, In gibes, and mocks, and many a tear, A carrion flock of homing-birds, The gibes and scorns I uttered here. The brave word that I failed to speak Will brand me dastard on the cheek. And as I wander on the roads I shall be helped and healed and blessed; Dear words shall cheer and be as goads To urge to heights before unguessed. My road shall be the road I made; All that I gave shall be repaid. So shall I fight, so shall I tread, In this long war beneath the stars; So shall a glory wreathe my head, So shall I faint and show the scars, Until this case, this clogging mould, Be smithied all to kingly gold.

Written by Mark Doty | At the Gym This salt-stain spot marks the place where men lay down their heads, back to the bench, and hoist nothing that need be lifted but some burden they've chosen this time: more reps, more weight, the upward shove of it leaving, collectively, this sign of where we've been: shroud-stain, negative flashed onto the vinyl where we push something unyielding skyward, gaining some power at least over flesh, which goads with desire, and terrifies with frailty. Who could say who's added his heat to the nimbus of our intent, here where we make ourselves: something difficult lifted, pressed or curled, Power over beauty, power over power! Though there's something more tender, beneath our vanity, our will to become objects of desire: we sweat the mark of our presence onto the cloth. Here is some halo the living made together.

Written by Emily Dickinson | If you were coming in the Fall If you were coming in the Fall, I'd brush the Summer by With half a smile, and half a spurn, As Housewives do, a Fly. If I could see you in a year, I'd wind the months in balls -- And put them each in separate Drawers, For fear the numbers fuse -- If only Centuries, delayed, I'd count them on my Hand, Subtracting, till my fingers dropped Into Van Dieman's Land. If certain, when this life was out -- That yours and mine, should be I'd toss it yonder, like a Rind, And take Eternity -- But, now, uncertain of the length Of this, that is between, It goads me, like the Goblin Bee -- That will not state -- its sting.

Written by Friedrich von Schiller | Hero And Leander See you the towers, that, gray and old, Frown through the sunlight's liquid gold, Steep sternly fronting steep? The Hellespont beneath them swells, And roaring cleaves the Dardanelles, The rock-gates of the deep! Hear you the sea, whose stormy wave, From Asia, Europe clove in thunder? That sea which rent a world, cannot Rend love from love asunder! In Hero's, in Leander's heart, Thrills the sweet anguish of the dart Whose feather flies from love. All Hebe's bloom in Hero's cheek-- And his the hunter's steps that seek Delight, the hills above! Between their sires the rival feud Forbids their plighted hearts to meet; Love's fruits hang over danger's gulf, By danger made more sweet. Alone on Sestos' rocky tower, Where upward sent in stormy shower, The whirling waters foam,-- Alone the maiden sits, and eyes The cliffs of fair Abydos rise Afar--her lover's home. Oh, safely thrown from strand to strand, No bridge can love to love convey; No boatman shoots from yonder shore, Yet Love has found the way. -- That love, which could the labyrinth pierce-- Which nerves the weak, and curbs the fierce, And wings with wit the dull;-- That love which o'er the furrowed land Bowed--tame beneath young Jason's hand-- The fiery-snorting bull! Yes, Styx itself, that ninefold flows, Has love, the fearless, ventured o'er, And back to daylight borne the bride, From Pluto's dreary shore! What marvel then that wind and wave, Leander doth but burn to brave, When love, that goads him, guides! Still when the day, with fainter glimmer, Wanes pale--he leaps, the daring swimmer, Amid the darkening tides; With lusty arms he cleaves the waves, And strikes for that dear strand afar; Where high from Hero's lonely tower Lone streams the beacon-star. In vain his blood the wave may chill, These tender arms can warm it still-- And, weary if the way, By many a sweet embrace, above All earthly boons--can liberal love The lover's toil repay, Until Aurora breaks the dream, And warns the loiterer to depart-- Back to the ocean's icy bed, Scared from that loving heart. So thirty suns have sped their flight-- Still in that theft of sweet delight Exult the happy pair; Caress will never pall caress, And joys that gods might envy, bless The single bride-night there. Ah! never he has rapture known, Who has not, where the waves are driven Upon the fearful shores of hell, Plucked fruits that taste of heaven! Now changing in their season are, The morning and the Hesper star;-- Nor see those happy eyes The leaves that withering droop and fall, Nor hear, when, from its northern hall, The neighboring winter sighs; Or, if they see, the shortening days But seem to them to close in kindness; For longer joys, in lengthening nights, They thank the heaven in blindness. It is the time, when night and day, In equal scales contend for sway-- Lone, on her rocky steep, Lingers the girl with wistful eyes That watch the sun-steeds down the skies, Careering towards the deep. Lulled lay the smooth and silent sea, A mirror in translucent calm, The breeze, along that crystal realm, Unmurmuring, died in balm. In wanton swarms and blithe array, The merry dolphins glide and play Amid the silver waves. In gray and dusky troops are seen, The hosts that serve the ocean-queen, Upborne from coral caves: They--only they--have witnessed love To rapture steal its secret way: And Hecate [36] seals the only lips That could the tale betray! She marks in joy the lulled water, And Sestos, thus thy tender daughter, Soft-flattering, woos the sea! "Fair god--and canst thou then betray? No! falsehood dwells with them that say That falsehood dwells with thee! Ah! faithless is the race of man, And harsh a father's heart can prove; But thee, the gentle and the mild, The grief of love can move!" "Within these hated walls of stone, Should I, repining, mourn alone, And fade in ceaseless care, But thou, though o'er thy giant tide, Nor bridge may span, nor boat may glide, Dost safe my lover bear. And darksome is thy solemn deep, And fearful is thy roaring wave; But wave and deep are won by love-- Thou smilest on the brave!" "Nor vainly, sovereign of the sea, Did Eros send his shafts to thee What time the rain of gold, Bright Helle, with her brother bore, How stirred the waves she wandered o'er, How stirred thy deeps of old! Swift, by the maiden's charms subdued, Thou cam'st from out the gloomy waves, And in thy mighty arms, she sank Into thy bridal caves. " "A goddess with a god, to keep In endless youth, beneath the deep, Her solemn ocean-court! And still she smooths thine angry tides, Tames thy wild heart, and favoring guides The sailor to the port! Beautiful Helle, bright one, hear Thy lone adoring suppliant pray! And guide, O goddess--guide my love Along the wonted way!" Now twilight dims the waters' flow, And from the tower, the beacon's glow Waves flickering o'er the main. Ah, where athwart the dismal stream, Shall shine the beacon's faithful beam The lover's eyes shall strain! Hark! sounds moan threatening from afar-- From heaven the blessed stars are gone-- More darkly swells the rising sea The tempest labors on! Along the ocean's boundless plains Lies night--in torrents rush the rains From the dark-bosomed cloud-- Red lightning skirs the panting air, And, loosed from out their rocky lair, Sweep all the storms abroad. Huge wave on huge wave tumbling o'er, The yawning gulf is rent asunder, And shows, as through an opening pall, Grim earth--the ocean under! Poor maiden! bootless wail or vow-- "Have mercy, Jove--be gracious, thou! Dread prayer was mine before!" What if the gods have heard--and he, Lone victim of the stormy sea, Now struggles to the shore! There's not a sea-bird on the wave-- Their hurrying wings the shelter seek; The stoutest ship the storms have proved, Takes refuge in the creek. "Ah, still that heart, which oft has braved The danger where the daring saved, Love lureth o'er the sea;-- For many a vow at parting morn, That naught but death should bar return, Breathed those dear lips to me; And whirled around, the while I weep, Amid the storm that rides the wave, The giant gulf is grasping down The rash one to the grave! "False Pontus! and the calm I hailed, The awaiting murder darkly veiled-- The lulled pellucid flow, The smiles in which thou wert arrayed, Were but the snares that love betrayed To thy false realm below! Now in the midway of the main, Return relentlessly forbidden, Thou loosenest on the path beyond The horrors thou hadst hidden. " Loud and more loud the tempest raves In thunder break the mountain waves, White-foaming on the rock-- No ship that ever swept the deep Its ribs of gnarled oak could keep Unshattered by the shock. Dies in the blast the guiding torch To light the struggler to the strand; 'Tis death to battle with the wave, And death no less to land! On Venus, daughter of the seas, She calls the tempest to appease-- To each wild-shrieking wind Along the ocean-desert borne, She vows a steer with golden horn-- Vain vow--relentless wind! On every goddess of the deep, On all the gods in heaven that be, She calls--to soothe in calm, awhile The tempest-laden sea! "Hearken the anguish of my cries! From thy green halls, arise--arise, Leucothoe the divine! Who, in the barren main afar, Oft on the storm-beat mariner Dost gently-saving shine. Oh,--reach to him thy mystic veil, To which the drowning clasp may cling, And safely from that roaring grave, To shore my lover bring!" And now the savage winds are hushing. And o'er the arched horizon, blushing, Day's chariot gleams on high! Back to their wonted channels rolled, In crystal calm the waves behold One smile on sea and sky! All softly breaks the rippling tide, Low-murmuring on the rocky land, And playful wavelets gently float A corpse upon the strand! 'Tis he!--who even in death would still Not fail the sweet vow to fulfil; She looks--sees--knows him there! From her pale lips no sorrow speaks, No tears glide down her hueless cheeks; Cold-numbed in her despair-- She looked along the silent deep, She looked upon the brightening heaven, Till to the marble face the soul Its light sublime had given! "Ye solemn powers men shrink to name, Your might is here, your rights ye claim-- Yet think not I repine Soon closed my course; yet I can bless The life that brought me happiness-- The fairest lot was mine! Living have I thy temple served, Thy consecrated priestess been-- My last glad offering now receive Venus, thou mightiest queen!" Flashed the white robe along the air, And from the tower that beetled there She sprang into the wave; Roused from his throne beneath the waste, Those holy forms the god embraced-- A god himself their grave! Pleased with his prey, he glides along-- More blithe the murmured music seems, A gush from unexhausted urns His everlasting streams!

Written by Emily Dickinson | If you were coming in the fall If you were coming in the fall, I'd brush the summer by With half a smile and half a spum, As housewives do a fly. If I could see you in a year, I'd wind the months in balls, And put them each in separate drawers, Until their time befalls. If only centuries delayed, I'd count them on my hand, Subtracting till my fingers dropped Into Van Diemen's land. If certain, when this life was out, That yours and mine should be, I'd toss it yonder like a rind, And taste eternity. But now, all ignorant of the length Of time's uncertain wing, It goads me, like the goblin bee, That will not state its sting.

Written by Paul Laurence Dunbar | A ROADWAY Let those who will stride on their barren roads And prick themselves to haste with self-made goads, Unheeding, as they struggle day by day, If flowers be sweet or skies be blue or gray: For me, the lone, cool way by purling brooks, The solemn quiet of the woodland nooks, A song-bird somewhere trilling sadly gay,[Pg 215] A pause to pick a flower beside the way.

Written by Robert William Service | Fear I know how father's strap would feel, If ever I were caught, So mother's jam I did not steal, Though theft was in my thought. Then turned fourteen and full of pitch, Of love I was afraid, And did not dare to dally with Our pretty parlour maid. And so it is and always was, The path of rectitude I've followed all my life because The Parson said I should. The dread of hell-fire held me straight When I was wont to stray, And though my guts I often hate, I walk the narrow way. I might have been a bandit or A Casanovish blade, But always I have prospered for I've always been afraid; Ay, fear's behind the best of us And schools us for success, And that is why I'm virtuous, And happy - more or less. So let me hail that mighty power That goads me to be good, And makes me cannily to cower Amid foolhardihood; Though I be criminal in gain, My virtue a veneer, I thank the God who keeps me sane, And shields me from distress and pain, And thrifts me on to golden gain, Almighty Fear.